A Pitfalls Extra
by carriebess
Summary: This is how the 13th Chapter of The Pitfalls of Service always played out in my mind. Definitely not for the faint of heart!


**Author's note- This was how I always imagined chapter 13 of Pitfalls but I changed it to keep the same rating. This is not for the faint of heart so if you are likely to be offended by any of the various ways that people can love one another you should probably stop reading . Also sorry this took so long. Got a baby (long story) and wrote a book (really long story).**

Betta was in his arms and he was kissing her, arching her spine back against the boulder when he moved to stand between her legs. Part of her had always wanted him, and the changes wrought in him by the years of bloodshed and pain only increased her attraction. The darkness called more to her than the light and he now radiated nothing so much as deadly purpose and strength of will. The waves that crashed into the rocky shore were but a muted noise compared to the pounding blood in her ears and the taste of him on her tongue. His hips moved, and the intimate press of his hard flesh as he moved inside her mouth made her body tremble.

"I could stay for the night. Micheletto would not mind, I feel certain." His mouth slid down the tender length her neck as he spoke. "He could even watch."

The suggestion caused desire to course through her body and when he returned to her mouth Betta returned the kiss with desperate hunger. There was an edge of pain in the pressure of his lips and it was delicious to her, oil thrown on a simmering flame that became a torrent.

He lifted her and pressed her into the rock. She could feel him through the layers of clothing, hard muscles and scars that were more beautiful to her then his former aesthetic perfection had been. Rough hands dipped under her skirts and smoothed up her leg, testing the slim and elegant muscles. When he reached the dagger strapped to her thigh he stopped and drew back the cloth to look at it, black and deadly against her white skin. He shuddered and his voice came out a rasp.

"If you wish to tell me no best do it now, for I am sorely tempted to take you against this rock until we both bleed."

Betta would have let him take her there for it was no longer desire that she felt. Need had turned into a roiling ache as she pictured him moving inside of her while the birds screamed overhead and the waves pounded into the rocks with the same force as his driving body. But this would not only be for her satisfaction. Micheletto wanted this man, and in watching her be taken by him she could give him something that no one else could, not the men he visited in Milan, or the nameless man whose death formed a weight on his heart. "Tonight, my lord." She murmured, and his eyes lit with triumph.

The burning gaze returned to her again and again throughout dinner. The food was not as elaborate as the meals served in the Vatican but each dish was delicious, the finest fruits of the land served to the visiting prince. Wine flowed like the conversation between them, easy and sweet. All were vintages that Micheletto had collected, wines that were a dark, rich song played on the senses. The husband she had come to know so well was subtly different in the company of his master, both more open, smiling at the remembrance of past adventures, and focused like a honed blade as Cesare Borgia outlined his plan for the conquering of Italy.

The power of the vision caught his imagination. That Micheletto would return to the war was no longer even a question in Betta's mind and instead of finding pain in it she was fiercely glad for his happiness. Micheletto De Corella was no tame lion, and she would not be the chain that bound him.

Cesare watched her over the rim of his glass as he sipped the wine. The movement of his throat as he swallowed was hopelessly delicious to her and she sat, transfixed, as he licked his lips. Micheletto watched how the eyes of his wife and his master were engaged in a heated duel. He caught her eye. They had been married long enough to have developed the ability to communicate without words. In her slightly raised eyebrows she asked the question. The touch of color that came into his cheeks and the eyes that closed just for a second communicated his assent louder then words could have done. He stood and wiped his mouth.

"I will take Master da Vinci to the Inn. We do not have the room to accommodate him." He rested his hand on Betta's shoulder for a second and squeezed.

"Do not tarry long, my husband." She murmured.

They remained seated until they heard the clatter of hooves on the courtyard. Cesare pushed his chair back until he was sitting directly opposite of her. He slouched like an indolent prince with his glass of wine and only the tight muscled lines revealed him as a predator. He stretched his legs out and rubbed his thighs and Betta could see, through the tight riding leathers, that he was aroused. Victory and conquests were his aphrodisiacs now and he could scent it in the air.

"Micheletto has left me alone with his wife. How very foolish." And he drained his glass of wine.

She moved until she sat perched on the edge of her chair and brought her hands to his knees. The leather of his breeches was warm and supple, and it flexed beneath her hand as though still alive and melded with the straining muscles beneath. She moved her fingers slowly, teasing him with gentleness as she leaned forward. The gown that she wore for the meal was black, like garb, and cut low across the breasts. She could feel his eyes devouring her, the beauty which had been hers from birth but only recently claimed.

"Will you require assistance to remove your garments, my lord?"

"I believe I shall."

She rose, silent except for the rustle of her skirts, the plush velvet like the play of skin upon skin. "Come then." He followed her through the hallway to the largest room in the villa. He walked too closely behind Betta, and the heat from his body sank into her like a stone left in the sun. Clever fingers pulled the pins from her hair as they walked until it streamed down her back.

Betta opened the heavy door to the chamber that she and Micheletto occupied. Sewing or tapestry work did not appeal to her but her sister delighted in both and had insisted on filling the room with beautiful things. Although not carved or ornate the bed was a massive piece of furniture that dominated the room and it was surrounded by hangings of rich brown cloth that warded off the chill of winter evenings. In the corner of the room sat a chair next to the unlit fireplace.

"Will this room suffice for your needs, my lord?" she asked when he followed her inside but he was done with teasing. Cesare grabbed and kissed her, roughly stripping off her dress and shift with the casual disregard of the wealthy. He left her clad only in stockings and blades, a small dark haired woman with eyes like the night. The two knives were a part of her, a shield and an extension of her limbs. Cesare touched them reverently, honoring their deadly purpose and the blood shed in defense of his family. He removed one from the leather case she had made years ago at Micheletto's suggestion. It held the blade firmly against the flesh of her arm in a case of supple leather and he tested the edge his finger over the tip. Blood immediately welled and Cesare's eyes went dark. "Deadly." He laughed. There was no tenderness in him for her and Betta was fiercely glad of it, that there was no need for him to wear a lying face in her bed.

"Keep them on." He groaned, returning the dagger to its sheath. "I would feel them when I am inside of you." Betta unlaced his doublet and peeled it from his body along with the linen shirt he wore. The scent of him was salt and leather and the tang of horses, delicious and familiar to her for this was the scent that she has washed off her mistress's body a thousand times. When she had removed his boots he picked her up and laid her in the center of her bed. He kissed and stroked her until they moved together in a harmony that was not love, only fierce desire. She thought he would take her then, hard against the bed, driving into her but Cesare Borgia was not a hasty lover. He drew back and crossed to the table where he had set a wine bottle. He returned with a glass in his hand. The body that was displayed by the faint light of the candles was beautiful to her, no longer an Adonis but a Mars, virile and deadly.

"Did you watch us, little Betta, when I would come to her room?" He drank deeply, emptying the glass except for a few droplets, which he tilted into the hollow of her navel. Wine was the color of blood against her skin, and he licked it. She was not soft like the ladies he customarily took to his bed. Sparring with Micheletto and the constant activity of their lives had sculpted her body into lean muscle. A trail of the wine escaped from the concavity of her navel and he followed it with his mouth, laughing under his breath as his tongue left a warm trail on her stomach.

"Yes." She whispered, her breath catching from the twin onslaughts of his wet tongue and the memories of what she had seen.

"I could feel your eyes sometimes, little mouse." Cesare said, and his mouth followed the other path that the wine had taken, a war river between her thighs. "You should have joined us. I am sure we could have reached some accommodation."

Images flooded her mind at the suggestion whispered against her aching skin. The golden bed at the Vatican, tending to her lady while Cesare Borgia held her hips in strong hands and filled her. Betta cried out and arched her back, begging him wordlessly to ease her torment.

Cesare flipped her over onto her stomach and his mouth began the long trek from the small of her back, moving upwards. His rested his weight on his forearms, tucked on either side of her as he moved his mouth. He placed kiss after teasing kiss on the expanse of her back while his hands supported his weight. She could feel the contraction of the muscles in his stomach as he moved, teasing her with what they both wanted.

"We have an audience." He breathed into her ear, and humor laced his voice.

Betta opened her eyes and she could see Micheletto watching them from across the room where the deepest shadows were not broached by the light of the candles. She could see his face and the hands clenched into fists at his hips.

Betta's lips curled into a smile, and her eyes stayed locked on his until Cesare lifted her hips into the air and slide into her slowly, savoring the feeling of her clasped tight around him. Micheletto's eyes closed for an instant and when he opened them again the mask he always wore to conceal his feels had shattered. She could read him openly now, and she saw his desire for the man that was plunging relentlessly into her body and for her as well. She was his match, more then anyone had ever been, and that she would give this to him was a gift as well as a challenge. They were together in this desire, two bodies made one flesh that could be taken and mastered.

Cesare wound her hair around his hand and pulled, arching the long white line of her neck back until she stared in her husband's face. She could feel the pressure building, curling through her legs and tightening her around him. Cesare moved forward and teeth sank into her shoulder blade like a stallion mounting a mare. The bite exploded through her body like lightening and she cried out, shaking as unbelievable warmth surged, bringing with it the edge of darkness. Cesare uncoupled from her body when her shudders ceased and flipped her onto her back. He wrapped her legs around his waist and moved in her until he collapsed with a muffled curse moments later.

He gathered her close and tucked his head into her shoulder as their bodies calmed. "By Christ woman." Cesare gasped out, laughter in his breathless voice. "Would that I could take you both with me."

"Subduing me while conquering the Romagna would prove too much for even your great vigor, my lord." Betta laughed and stretched her arms over her head. She unstrapped her blades and placed them under the bed, feeling fully unclothed for the first time.

She knew Micheletto still watched them, helpless with desire and so she flaunted herself, moving her legs so that he could see the copious wetness and the marks of Cesare Borgia's mouth on her skin.

"Does he suffer now?"

Betta sat up at looked to the chair in the corner. Hair fell around her shoulders like a veil that Cesare brushed aside, placing delicate kisses along her shoulder as his hand curved around her breast. This was no longer just about desire, Betta thought, and he does nothing without a reason. It's dominance he craves and he will use his body to prove it, both to her and Micheletto.. "He burns."

"Perhaps you should invite him to join us." Cesare Borgia whispered in her ear. "There is room aplenty."

"Room in the bed, my lord, or in me?"

He drew back. "What are you suggesting?"

"Pleasure, my lord. Only pleasure." She said and her eyes challenged him.

"Go and tend to him." He said, and leaned back against the bed, displaying his body negligently.

Betta rose noiselessly and slipped from the bed. The stone floor beneath her feet was cold and it sent a shiver through her as she walked to where Micheletto sat as rigidly as a statue. As she knelt Betta knew that he could smell the scent of her.

She unlaced her husband slowly, reveling in the molten heat in his eyes. "Up." He growled, and the low timber of his barely contained need sent answering sensations flooding through her. She rose and would have slid home on him in one moment but his hands at her hips slowed her, and he eased her gently down on him, savoring the feel of her wetness. He loved her slowly, barley moving his hips and not allowing her to rush him to completion. Time slowed and all that she knew was the heaviness of him inside of her and the faint sounds from the bed where they were watched.

"Come back here." Cesare Borgia said from the bed. Micheletto tightened his fingers on her hips before he released her. Turning she saw that Valentino was aroused again, his cheeks flushed with color from watching them. She moved off of Micheletto with a groan and returned to the bed.

Betta returned to him by inches, moving her mouth slowly up the magnificent body, teasing him. He caught her breasts roughly in his hands and Betta knew she would bear the marks tomorrow and so she marked him in turn, drawing her nails down his chest until he hissed. They savaged one another in a contest of supremacy, drawing blood and pleasure equally.

She placed her hands on the lean stomach and sank onto him, glorying in the moan that seemed wrenched from the depths of his being.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her to him as he turned onto his side and hooked an arm under her leg.

"Micheletto. Come here."

"My lord?" Micheletto's voice was a ragged plea.

"I require your assistance."

Micheletto came forward into the light and began to remove his clothes without once taking his eyes from his wife and his master, who writhed together on the bed.

He kept a careful distance between them and Betta could feel him tremble.

"Are you too timid to touch your own wife, my friend?" And the movements of his thrusting hips became stronger, driving them across the bed until the incredible warmth that was her husband was pressed against her back. She could feel his arousal but also his fear. His face was buried in her hair as he stroked down her back, carefully not touching the other man. Fingers stroked the wetness between her legs and then pressed deeply inside of her, readying her. There was a slight bite of pain Micheletto slid inside of her but then they moved together and all that she could feel was the incredible fullness as the three of them were locked together in an intimate embrace.

Micheletto's hand rested on her hip, holding her close to him as he moved. Cesare grabbed Micheletto's forearm and squeezed so hard that Betta thought she could hear the bones creaking and in the curtain fall of her hair she felt an indrawn breath and a hiss of pleasure.

She could no longer distinguish the different sensations. Pain melted into pleasure that became tenderness and they moved together throughout the night like a wave that has returned to the shore.

In the time just before the dawn Betta awoke. Cesare Borgia's eyes shined as he watched her, safely wrapped in Micheletto's arms.

"Thank you." He whispered. "I have not felt warm in years."

Betta inclined her head.

"Would you give something to my lady, should I fall like Icarus?"


End file.
